


When Our Cars Collide

by Aylwyyn228



Series: Golden Era Walking Dead [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Car Accidents, Cute Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon Whump, Grumpy Daryl Dixon, Hospitals, M/M, Meet-Ugly, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Rick Grimes should pay more attention, mild whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylwyyn228/pseuds/Aylwyyn228
Summary: Rick had never felt more awful. And that was really saying something given the last week or so. It’d put things in perspective at least, he fought the urge to laugh at whatever universe thought this was the only kind of lesson he would respond to.Cos really, he got it. Message noted.





	When Our Cars Collide

Rick had never felt more awful. And that was really saying something given the last week or so. It’d put things in perspective at least, he fought the urge to laugh at whatever universe thought this was the only kind of lesson he would respond to. 

Cos really, he got it. Message noted. 

He didn’t think anything could be worse than seeing the man sprawled across the tarmac, the belated realisation of what the thump he’d felt was. Cos that was really the kicker, he honestly didn’t see him, was so out of it that he took a couple of seconds to come to his senses. 

When he’d got out of the car, he’d thought he was dead. There was no doubt in his mind, as he sprinted over, that he’d just killed a man. 

And it was truly the worst moment of his life. 

About ten thousand times worse than Lori leaving him. About a million times worse than finding out she’d gone to Shane. 

When Rick’d dropped to his knees, heard the man swear under his breath, seen him move to tuck his arm up close to his ribs, the relief had been palpable.

After that, he’d let training take over, took comfort in the familiar order of it. 

And beyond that it’d been all interviews and statements and all that terrible pity from his colleagues saying how it was just one of those things and no real harm done and clapping him on the shoulder. 

But he knew. He’d spent all of yesterday drowning in as much whiskey as he could just to stop knowing it. 

He shouldn’t have been driving. He hadn’t slept in days. Rowing himself hoarse with Lori and Shane and just about anyone he could find. He’d been thinking on it all. Hadn’t been paying attention. 

And he knew that light had been red. 

So it didn’t matter what all the guys at the station said. 

It was his fault. 

And whoever that guy was, he had some angel watching out for him. 

But now it was time to man up, after thinking he’d just hide and never leave the house again. Whoever the guy was, he owed him the biggest apology of his life. And he was nothing if he didn’t make good on his debts.

So that was how he found himself hovering outside the door. He’d waited for visiting hours, hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself by forcing his way through with his badge. 

But then he’d come stuck. What if he had other visitors? 

Rick didn’t want to interrupt. 

There was a guilty part of him that said that wasn’t it at all. It was going to be bad enough facing the man he had thrown off his bike, he didn’t think he could cope with an angry wife, with tearful children. That was all just too much. 

Still he’d promised himself he was going to apologise in person, and who knew if he’d ever have the chance again. 

He steeled himself, knocked once. 

There was an answering grunt. 

He had no choice now. 

He opened the door a crack, then fully. The man was dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing the other day, by the looks of it. His right arm was in a cast. He had a slight graze up the side of his cheek and through the holes in his shredded, blood spotted jeans, Rick could just make out the stark white of dressings.

The man frowned at him suspiciously for a second.

“Errr, hi.”

Well, that was an awkward start.

But recognition dawned on the man’s face. “Hi.” 

He said it in a way that was dripping in irony or sarcasm or something and for a second all Rick could do was look away.

“I don’t know how I can ever apologise.”

He glanced up, meeting only puzzlement. 

“Why?”

His breath caught in his throat, realising he was going to have to say the words. “It was me that hit you.”

“Oh.” He looked away, biting at his nails. “Figured you were just there.”

Rick swallowed thickly. “I’ll pay for any costs. Tell the insurance…. Or something…” He trailed off as the man snorted a humourless laugh.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re in the clear, hoss.”

“Why?”

The man snapped round, still chewing at his thumb. “Cops have charged me.”

“What? What for?”

“Saying I was drinking, or high or something, don’t reckon they’ve decided yet.”

Rick knew his mouth had dropped open. “But I ran the light.”

The man just shrugged. 

Rick did turn away this time, running a hand through his hair. Fuck. Someone trying to protect him, Shane probably, half filled up with guilt. Whoever it was, they had no right. “They won’t charge you. I’ll go down to the station, get this sorted out.”

“You’re a cop.” 

He thought there was some dull surprise in that and when he looked back he saw that the man was staring at him intently. 

“Thought you were a paramedic or somethin’, way you were giving orders on the road. Makes more sense. Thought your pals were just being dicks. More’n usual.”

Rick didn’t really know what to say to that. “I don’t… I won’t let them charge you.”

The man just grunted. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop sayin that!” 

Rick almost took a step back in the face of his sudden anger. “I just wanted to apologise in person.”

“Well, now ya have.”

There was a moment’s pause as they just glared at each other. Well, the man glared, he just sort of wilted. He grasped around for something to say.

“When are they gonna let you go?”

The man just laughed again, picking at one of the rips in his jeans. “They been trying to get rid of me all day. If my brother’d just answer the goddamn phone and come pick me up.”

“He didn’t bring you a change of clothes?” He gestured at the ripped jeans. “When they brought you in?”

Rick didn’t think the man’s laughs could get any colder. “He ain’t even noticed I’m missing yet. You’d think after the second night.”

“Does no one know you’re here?” 

Rick’d thought he’d just about managed to keep the disbelief outta his voice but the man’s head snapped up.

“Don’t need no pity from you.”

“I wasn’t… I’ll take you home.” He didn’t know why he said it, and in the face of the man’s open derision, he felt the need to at least qualify it. “I mean, I get it if you don’t wanna get in a car with me, but, if you wanna get outta here.”

The man was frowning at him, like it was a trick or a trap. He nodded suddenly. “Guess I hate doctors a bit more’n I hate cops.”

The laugh burst out of Rick. “Well, that’s something I guess. I’ll just go tell them I came to pick you up.”

He turned for the door and then came up short. “I never got your name?”

“Daryl.”

“Rick Grimes.” He smiled, hand still on the door, but he only got a grunt in return. 

He couldn’t help the shrug as he left. 

The nurses were as eager to get rid of Daryl as he’d said. Paperwork done in thirty seconds flat. 

When returned, Daryl was hovering by the window. He span at the intrusion. “We goin or what?”

Rick found himself smiling as he nodded, quickly turning to guilt as he watched Daryl take a tentative step forward, trying to keep his leg as straight as possible.

“You alright walking?”

Daryl nodded, jaw tight. “Can’t use a crutch with the arm and I ain’t gettin wheeled outta here.”

Rick didn’t argue, just fell into place a half step behind him, following the man’s painfully slow progress.

He wondered if it was just road rash or if he’d done something to his knee. He didn’t ask. Partly cos he didn’t think an answer would be forthcoming and partly cos he didn’t think he could face it. Whatever it was it looked like it hurt.

As soon as they reached the entrance, Rick stepped in front of him. “I’ll bring the car round.”

“Nah.”

“Are you sure? I can-“

“Nah.”

So Rick just fell back into step, guiding him over. Wasn’t as if he had any high ground for making decisions here.

“It’s this one.” He pointed, pretty unnecessarily given it was the only car over this side of the lot.

Daryl, for his part, didn’t answer, just continued to hobble over to the passenger side. Rick followed him over and got in. 

It took Daryl a second longer to get himself situated and then he met Rick’s look with a challenge, staring him down as he very deliberately fastened his seatbelt. 

Rick couldn’t be sure, but he thought there might be the ghost of a smirk there.

“Alrigh’, I deserve that.”

“I die in this car, I’m gonna haunt the shit outta you.”

“’S fair. Where to?”

“Turn left outta here, I’ll show you.”

By the time they made it to the main road, Daryl was reflexively chewing on his thumb again. “So what’s a cop doin runnin a light anyway? You tailin someone?”

“No, I was off duty. I was tired, wasn’t paying attention. ‘S been…” He laughed hollowly. “’S been a Hell of a week.”

“You’re tellin me, cowboy.”

There was a definite smirk about Daryl now, but when he glanced across Rick caught the slight flex of his fingers where they stuck out from the cast. And Rick was punched in the gut with guilt again.

“It bad? Your arm?”

He saw Daryl shrug out of the corner of his eye. 

“They spent about eleven hours yesterday trying to decide if they should put a pin in it. Guess I should be thankin you, ain’t never broke that wrist before, must be getting on for a full set.”

Rick frowned, but before he could open his mouth to ask, Daryl cut him off. “You gonna tell me about your shitty week or not?”

Rick frowned again, this time trying to work out where to begin. 

“Well, Sunday my wife left me, nearly fifteen years and she just ups and leaves. I find out on Monday that she’s shacked up with my best friend. He didn’t tell me himself, had to find out from another guy at work.”

Daryl nodded, he was back biting his nails again. “’S a left up here.”

Rick dutifully took the turn, down a road that was little more than a track, running along the edge of woodland.

“Tuesday, Shane, the best friend, he gets the promotion that I went for. He didn’t even tell me he’d applied for it. Then Wednesday my son tells me he’d rather live at Shane’s than at home.” He laughed mirthlessly. “In three days, my best friend stole my wife, my job and my son.” He glanced across at Daryl’s intense stare. “Then I hit you with my car and that really put the cherry on it.”

Daryl nodded slowly again, as if he was considering. “That is shitty. You got my week beat.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t got no limbs in plaster, so I reckon we can call it a draw.” 

They came up to a rundown house, all dry rot and rusted out metal in the long grass. He knew Daryl was watching him, and he knew well enough when someone was waiting for a reaction, when someone might well be willing to provoke one if they didn’t get one. 

So he deliberately kept his tone light. “Is this it?”

Daryl just grunted an acknowledgement as they pulled up. He made a move to get out, throwing a ‘thank you’ over his shoulder, and without thinking Rick was following him. 

They both stood for a second staring at each other over the car roof.

“At least let me see you inside.” Rick tried to pitch the tone right again and he must have managed it, because Daryl just gave a shrug. 

He was glad, cos he didn’t think he could come up with an answer to ‘why?’. 

“Watch where you’re steppin,” Daryl didn’t look round as he spoke, intent on limping towards the door, “your shitty week ain’t gonna get much better if you get lockjaw.” 

Rick agreed whole heartedly as he weaved a safe path through the grass, ticking off exhausts, truck tyres and what looked like a wire bed frame.

He made it to the door a couple of steps behind Daryl. 

“Merle, you here?”

Rick took a tentative step inside. It was tiny, grotty. Kitchen, a couple of worktops and an old style freestanding stove, a few chairs and a TV that didn’t look like it’d worked in years. There were a couple of rooms off to the back that Rick assumed were bedrooms and, in the centre of the room, there was a sofa with a large snoring man sleeping on it. 

Daryl limped over and shook him none too gently. “Merle, don’t ya know not to pass out on ya back? Ya dumb shit!”

When the big guy didn’t give much of a response, Daryl gave up and just started trying to heft him onto his side one handed. He grunted with the effort. “You’re a fat son of a bitch, you know that?”

Rick started forward when he let out a groan as he was forced to use his bad arm, but Daryl had already dragged him over. 

He turned round, noticeably pale. 

“You still here?” he snapped, all prickles again. He pushed past him over to the cupboards. “You want a beer before you go?”

Rick just blinked at that, cos it really weren’t what he was expecting. 

“You deaf, deputy?”

“Err, yeah, beer’d be good.”

Rick noted that the cupboard was conspicuously full of bottles and conspicuously empty of food.

Daryl turned and practically punched him in the chest with the bottle, then took a swig from his own as if he had a personal vendetta against it.

The silence was heavy, Daryl daring him to comment on anything he’d seen. Frankly, any other day he’d be searching the place, but he figured he owed the man a pass. 

“Your bike ok?”

Daryl snorted a laugh and took another swig. “Ok yeah, bike’s fucking fine. Was me that took the hit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop fucking saying you’re sorry, Rick! Ya stopped, didn’t ya?”

Rick thought that seemed like a pretty low bar. He thought it was better not to mention it. 

Daryl at least seemed to think it was time for a truce. He was staring at the floor, picking at the label on the bottle. “Bike’s being held at a shop over the other side of town, I’ll go pick it up tomorrow if I can get Merle to drive me over.”

Thinking about the man passed out on the couch behind him, he sincerely didn’t think he’d be safe to drive by tomorrow morning. And wouldn’t that just be the kicker on his week.

“I’ll drive you,” he said easily. Daryl seemed to respond better if it sounded like nothing, devoid of pity. 

Daryl downed the last of his beer. “You done enough.”

“I really ain’t.”

Daryl shrugged, as if he couldn’t give two shits either way. 

He offered his empty bottle back to him. “Tomorrow then.”

Daryl deposited both on the side and nodded. “Whatever.”

He walked him to the door. There was an awkward pause on the doorstep and Rick forgot about his broken wrist, holding out a hand. Daryl just raised an eyebrow at him.

He swapped hands and they shook lefts, Daryl huffing out a laugh.

“Was good to meet you, Daryl.”

“Likewise. Circumstances could have been better.”

And he couldn’t say why, but the tiny smile Daryl shot him was something he definitely something he wanted to see again.

As he walked back to the car, Rick was already trying to work out how to convince Daryl that he should take him to a supermarket tomorrow so he could get some solid sustenance inside that house. 

  
  



End file.
